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... place to eat — it was an arena where the rich mingled, where deals were made over glasses of expensive wine, and where the scent of power was almost as strong as the aroma of the gourmet dishes being served.

A few people waved at him, some offering polite nods, others raising their glasses in acknowledgment.

He waved back casually, knowing full well that the social hierarchy in a place like this was an intricate web.

Some people in this room were wealthy beyond imaginati ...

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A poor and bereaved medical student rescued an injured black dog from a busy road, but the black dog bit him and gave him a clinic—the Sky Clinic. If he didn’t pay the rent on time, his life would be cut short.

In order to survive, how would Ning Tao, a new cultivator, earn the good and evil value to offset the rent? What kind of bizarre and inconsistent things that were beyond his imagination would continue to happen to him? As a person between good and evil, he must keep himself balanced. How would he enhance his cultivation in the ordinary yet fantastic urban life?

This was a story of an ordinary young man who cured people while praising virtue and punishing vice.

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Handler XX: Stock MaestroChapter 28: Zayniac
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“Congratulations, you're now a Handler. You'll serve the state with utmost loyalty and pledge your life to its causes.”That was what Trent heard just before being handed an envelope—and a whole lot of disrespect.Mocked for his poor combat performance and labeled pathetic by his superiors, Trent finishes Handler training humiliated and underestimated. But they made one mistake: they judged him by his strength, not his mind.What Trent lacks in brute force, he makes up for with a rare genius in finance.So when a mysterious voice speaks to him in the bathroom—“Hello, Host. This is Ave-511e69.”His world flips upside down.Now equipped with Ave, a mysterious financial system that seems to know everything, Trent is about to rise through the ranks in a way no Handler ever has.Through stock markets, black-market missions, and calculated chaos, he will prove that money is the greatest weapon of all.They looked down on him. Now, they’ll look up in fear.

Richest Man: Getting 7 Billion Red Pockets To Start WithChapter 774 Shock; Support!
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“Ding! Congratulations! You have received 7 billion red pockets!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received 50 million yuan!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received a Lamborghini Aventador!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received 51% stock of a listed company!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received a whole tower worth 5 billion!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received the skill, Combat King!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received the skill, God’s Singing Voice!”

“7 billion red packets? How long will it even take me to open all of them?” Lin Fan complained.

“Excuse me, how long do you think it will take you to earn a million?” a certain random reporter asked.

Lin Fan was silent.

“Sorry, but, why do you keep blinking?” the reporter asked.

“Didn’t you ask how long it would take?”

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“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.